


Cold Wave

by sashach



Series: Evanstan by Anie [1]
Category: Actor RPF, Captain America (Movies) RPF
Genre: English translation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 15:50:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6811837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sashach/pseuds/sashach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very domestic Evanstan, in which Sebastian had a cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Wave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anie/gifts).



> a thank you to Anie for letting me translate this adorable fic. i apologize in advance for all the grammar mistakes and odd sentence structure.

It all happened by accident.

One minute Sebastian was joking about how he should get to Chris’ house when it snowed this year to help him dig out his house buried in the snow.

The next minute, he was sneezing.

“You okay?” Chris felt the man in his arms shivered a little, then made a nasal sound that seemed like a cough.

Sebastian sounded like a little animal when he sneezed. Chris couldn’t tell exactly which animal, but in his words, Sebastian’s sneeze was very quiet.

“Told you the fragrance you tried just now was too strong,” said Sebastian disapprovingly as he rubbed his nose, sat up straight and scoot a little further from Chris.

“Hey, don’t blame me,” Chris spread his hands. “I agree it was too strong, but it’s all gone now.”

“Whatever.” Sebastian rolled his eyes. He took the remote control from the coffee table and switched the channel to one that was playing an old classic movie which he’d seen more than a million times. “I can’t stand that smell. I just don’t like it.”

Chris looked nonchalant. He got up and went to the kitchen and returned with a plate of freshly cut fruit.

The lights in the living room were not turned on. The tv was playing a black and white movie from the last century. The heroine of the movie was flirting with a new tenant, her voice carried the unique charm of old movies.

Sebastian had seen a movie at a movie theater once when he was a kid. It was also a black and white movie. The memory was too distant for him to recall where or which country did that happened. It could be Vienna, it could be Constanta. He couldn’t even remember what movie it was. The only thing that was etched into his memory was of him sitting near the projector and he could hear the rustling whisper of the film rolling in the projector. Just like the characteristic sound of a gramophone when the stylus ran along the groove of a record.

As though it was a different song from the sound itself.

“We should get some salad dressing,” said Sebastian as he shot a casual glance at the big fail of a fruit platter in the dim living room.

The curtains were tightly drawn, and without the lights on, the living room was too dark for him to even notice Chris had changed out of that t-shirt with “strong fragrance”.

“You actually like Audrey Hepburn.” Chris sat down next to him to watch the movie with him. Sebastian almost had the entire movie memorized. “Did you not see _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_ last week?”

“Dude, what’s wrong with you?” rebuked Sebastian. “Audrey was the goddess of the last century.”

“I know, I know,” Chris rubbed his neck and laughed. In an exaggerated shrill, he quoted the princess’ lines in _Roman Holiday_. “I hate this nightgown. I hate all my nightgowns, and I hate all my underwear, too.”

Chris’s tone was deliberate, getting sharper and sharper with each sentence, eliciting happy laughter from Sebastian. They went on to say the lines in different accents. They argued about who had the best Boston accent, and if Sebastian owed his almost perfect Boston accent to Chris; both men eventually dissolved into a laughing heap. It was raining heavily in the movie, fat drops of rain pounded heavily on the ground, composing a variation. The heroine was calling “cat”, looking for the cat that she’d let go in the cab, but the two audience were not concerned with the story now.

Before going to bed, Chris had taken a shower in the shower room, the steam drifted to the connected bathroom. Sebastian had just finished washing his face in the misty space when he noticed the bottle of fragrance that he hated. In the bathroom trash can.

Sebastian felt an itchiness in his throat. He coughed a couple times, but it didn’t seem to get better.

Was it because it’d been too dry lately?

Doubtful, Sebastian pulled back the duvet and went to get himself a glass of warm water. The fluid flowed down his throat, soothing and moisturizing. Sebastian wasn’t sure if it really worked. He made himself believe that it did.

Sebastian felt much better after drinking the glass of water, although the uncomfortable sensation of having something in his throat persisted. He was convinced that he was all right. He shrugged off the robe that he’d put on earlier and slipped under the duvet.

Chris was a light sleeper, in dazed voice, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Sore throat. Drank some water.” Sebastian leaned over to kiss his lips.

“Must be the cold wave. The temperature difference is huge, stay warm,” Chris pulled Sebastian closer, transmitting his warmth to him. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

 

Even though Sebastian fervently denied and said the steak from yesterday’s lunch was too spicy, the atmosphere of last night’s gathering was too enthusiastic, he woke up too early this morning; Chris was not buying any of those.

Sebastian’s voice was raspy and nasally; Chris was getting worried. He had already rescheduled his agenda for the day and set an appointment with a doctor. 

“I’m not going,” Sebastian’s hand that was holding the fork paused when he heard that. He shook his head resolutely.

“Seb, you should go see the doctor,” persuaded Chris. “You’d only feel worse if you don’t.”

“I don’t have a cold,” Sebastian took a bite of the pizza. “I never had heat stroke or fever ever since I got here, how could I have a cold now?”

“I’ve made the appointment,” Chris waved the cell phone in his hand warily. “I can come with you.”

“You’ve a magazine shoot tomorrow,” Sebastian rolled his eyes as he chewed his pizza. “Even if you postponed that shoot, I’m still not going to the doctor.”

“…”

Chris began to eat his lunch.

Was Chris giving up?

No. Of course not. Absolutely not.

Sebastian went and took a shower after lunch. He felt uncomfortable and lethargic. The steam from the shower only made breathing more difficult for him.

He coughed a little. He felt as though there was a blade of grass in his throat, and whenever he coughed, the grass would tremble from the vibration of the stream of air, scratching his windpipe, and the unbearable itch would make him cough even more.

It was true that Sebastian hardly ever catch a cold, and this one seemed to have gathered all the cold he hadn’t had in the past years together and threw it back at him once and for all. Chris evidently heard Sebastian's painful coughs from the bathroom. He knocked on the door and asked, “Seb, are you okay?”

Sebastian forced himself to stop coughing. In a nasally voice, he replied, “I’m good. I’m all right.”

 _You don’t sound good._ Sebastian’s voice was usually light and soft, now that he was talking with that nasal slur, he sounded like a child asking for candies.

Chris waited for Sebastian outside the door. When he saw him coming out of the bathroom, draped in a bathrobe, casually drying his hair, he took the towel from him and kissed his lips.

“What the fuck?” When the kiss ended, Sebastian pushed Chris away with a jolt, shocked. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Gimme your cold,” said Chris as a matter of factly. “You would go to the doctor with me if I caught the bug.”

Sebastian was awed by Chris’ persistence. When Chris held his arm around his shoulder and guided him to the couch to dry his hair, he finally said, “All right, give me the doctors’s address and cell phone number. I’ll go.”

“Oh, no, I’m coming with you.” Sitting behind Sebastian to dry his hair, Chris reached out his hand to the front and pinched his cheek. “I just postponed the magazine shoot.”

_Whatever._

“Get your hand off my face,” said Sebastian.

Sebastian woke up in the middle of night coughing. He buried himself under the duvet, trying to stifle his coughs. The rattling of his chest woke Chris, who was spooning him from behind. Chris was about to leave the bed to get Sebastian a glass of water when the latter stopped him. “I’ll be fine… really.”

Chris didn’t listen to him, of course. He got out of the bed and came back with a glass of water for Sebastian to soothe his throat, patting his back gently as he drank the water.

Sebastian’s coughing fit stopped, he sniffled and rubbed away the tears from the coughing. His eyes were red-rimmed, his hair was disheveled. He looked like a stray cat that had been bullied.

“Take it easy, I’m here,” Chris gave Sebastian a tissue and turned on the bedside lamp. He hugged him, the heat radiating from his body thawed out the cold of Sebastian’s body, keeping him warm. The soft, yellow light casted their elongate shadows on the wall, like a remaining tenderness in this cold and chaotic world.

“Let go of me,” said Sebastian in a nasally voice. He climbed under the duvet when Chris’ hold relaxed. “I can hardly breathe.”

“Feeling better?” Chris followed him and laid down, one arm encircling Sebastian’s waist. The skin under the t-shirt wasn’t as smooth as that of a woman, but the taunt muscles were another kind of physical aesthetic. Awed, Chris slid his hand underneath Sebastian’s t-shirt to his waist, caressing his V-line abs for quite a while.

“Get your hands off me.” Sebastian felt as though the heat of Chris’ palm had lit up a fire around his waist, burning along the lines of his muscles.

It only made him more breathless.

“Okay.” Chris removed his hand obediently and leaned over Sebastian to turn off the bedside lamp.

The duvet was lifted up, the coolness of the night took advantage and crept through the crevice. Sebastian had to pulled the duvet tighter around himself and turned off the light for Chris.

Chris’ hand barely touched the lamp when Sebastian slapped it away. He had to lay back down and say, “Sweetie, you’ve done everything, at least let me do something,”

“Sure,” Sebastian turned over, closed his eyes and said halfheartedly, “All you have to do is shut up and go back to sleep.”

Chris was obviously not going to sleep so easily. He tangled his limbs around Sebastian like a koala and planted a kiss on his lips, aiming for a deep kiss before going to sleep.

But he didn’t get the result he wanted. When their lips and tongues touched, Sebastian pushed him away. He clenched his jaws, opened his eyes and said, “Just go back to sleep, okay, big baby?”

“Gimme your cold,” Chris gazed at him, the stars outside the windows reflected in his eyes. “Maybe you’ll get better?”

“Get lost.” Sebastian decided to give his passionate suggestion a cold shoulder instead. He yawned. The lack of sleep coupled with a cold only made one agitated and impatient.

Dejected, Chris kissed Sebastian’s forehead. In a typical Boston slur, he said, “Yeah, g’night.”

Sebastian felt the warmth on his forehead. He needed to catch up on some sleep, he had no choice but to let Chris embrace him tightly. 

Just like a golden retriever.

_But he was mine._

Sebastian couldn’t help but compare the similarity between the golden retriever in his mind to Chris, and wanted to laugh. The cheerful thought dispelled the daze in his brain. He adjusted himself into a more comfortable position and sank into slumber.

Chris woke up really early the next morning. He got out of the bed quietly to make breakfast, and then made a call to the doctor to change the time of the appointment to the morning.

“To be honest, Mr. Evans,” said the doctor cheerlessly. “There isn’t much difference between morning and afternoon.”

“In that case, please change it to the morning,” Chris put the buttered toast on a plate and went to take the milk out of the fridge to warm it up.

The doctor could only do as he was told. He’d barely said “okay” when Chris just hung up the call happily. He didn’t even get to say the next sentence.

_At least let me explain why there wasn’t any difference whether you come in for treatment in the morning or in the afternoon._

The doctor took a sip of his coffee, thinking how very disappointing this morning was.

Chris returned to their bedroom when he finished making breakfast. Sebastian was still sleeping. Sebastian felt like he was sinking into a deep void, his body getting heavier and heavier as he plunged down.

Patients needed longer hours of sleep than usual. 

Chris tried to wake Sebastian up. He sat down on the edge of the bed, called Sebastian’s name softly, then touched his face.

The side where Chris was sitting sank down softly. In his dream, Sebastian felt himself going from falling to rolling down a slope; he saw Chris reaching out his hand to him at the end of the slope.

Sebastian moved toward Chris’ side and nuzzled Chris’ profile when he leaned over. He heard Chris calling his name. He opened his eyes with effort and focused his sight to the real world.

“Wake up,” Chris blinked. They were so close that their breaths were fused together, warm like the breeze. “We’re going to the doctor later.”

Sebastian was now fully awake. He quickly pushed Chris aside, wrapped himself in the duvet and rolled over to the other side of the bed, only to roll back again because it was a tad cold on the other side. He asked unhappily, “Didn’t you say the appointment is in the afternoon?”

“I changed it to the morning,” Chris smiled and threw the clothes on the chair to Sebastian and went to turn up the temperature.

Chris had already finished reading the day’s newspapers on the couch and Googled the results of the games he’d missed in the last few days on his phone. When he was done, he saw Sebastian dragging himself out of the bedroom.

To be honest, Chris thought Sebastian’s personality was really weird. Sebastian was sweet and friendly when they first met, he was always gentle when he spoke to people; like an obedient kitten. But when they got closer, Chris realized that Sebastian was in fact not all that friendly and absolutely unpredictable. He was always a sweetheart to strangers, but to close friends, or for example, Chris, who was his boyfriend, Sebastian was not all that affable.

Once he trusted someone, Sebastian would become very clingy; but sometimes he would push people away. Take the cold for example, Chris wanted to help Sebastian, shower his partner devoted love and affectionate concern. Sebastian, on the other hand, insisted that he was fine, that he could take care of himself.

Sebastian had been through a lot, his previous experience in life had made him especially independent; but Chris didn’t think that way. If he couldn’t let Sebastian transfer the burden to him, then the least he could do was to share some of it.

 

After breakfast, Sebastian went in the car and let Chris take him to the doctor he’d set the appointment with.

Sebastian had mixed feelings about hospitals. When he was a kid, he had a best friend who was very sick and had to be hospitalized. His impression of hospitals at that time was a white building with white everything. 

Time and sickness and pain took away his friend’s life, leaving an empty, gaunt shell and organs that went to sleep forever. Sebastian was pulled away by his mother. He heard the loud sobs of his friend’s mother as she ran to the bed. A crushing wail accompanied by the doctor’s calm words of advice. 

He never liked hospitals since then. In his impression, hospitals were institutions of hope, yet there were more despair.

The clinic that Chris had set the appointment with was a private one. It was spacious and bright. The white walls and shiny floors only made the place more severe and frigid.

The doctor put down his coffee upon seeing them and motioned for Sebastian to sit on the chair.

Sebastian was hesitant, Chris could see his uncertainty. He squeezed his wrist to calm his nerves. Sebastian sighed and walked toward the wooden chair.

After the routine questions, the doctor took his temperature with a thermometer.

“Slight fever,” the doctor looked at the reading on the thermometer. “Caused by the cold, but it’s not serious. The weather has been quite erratic lately, it’s natural to catch the bug.”

“Just medications?” Chris asked anxiously from behind Sebastian.

“Of course,” the doctor tried to resist the urge to roll his eyes. “Would you like an IV transfusion?”  
“Oh, forget it then.” Chris thanked the doctor and left with Sebastian.

The cold wave in New York came early this year and stayed longer. Fortunately, it didn’t cause a lot of snowing, and the air was cold and dry. Sebastian felt much after a few days of medications. His head didn’t hurt anymore and his breathing was easier. He still coughed every now and then, but it wasn’t as severe as before.

Chris bought five or six thermometers and put one each in the living room, the kitchen and the bedrooms.

“Honestly, you don’t have to get so many,” Sebastian watched wistfully as Chris put a thermometer in the drawer of the nightstand. “I can still walk even if I have a fever.”

“I know.” Chris turned around, cupped Sebastian’s face with both hands and gave him a kiss. “Your throat doesn’t sound good, I’ll get you a glass of water.”

Before Sebastian could answer, Chris returned with a mug of warm water.

“Come back to Boston with me when you feel better. It should be warmer there than in New York,” said Chris, holding the steaming mug. 

“And then dig out your house from the snow?” Sebastian teased jokingly with a grin.

“If you want, we could build a giant snow man,” Chris curled the corners of his lips, laughing with Sebastian.

They spent the entire evening discussing how big should the snow man be to be shown in a drone picture. They thought about several plans and even drew quite a few diagrams that only god knew what those were, and they finally came up with a perfect plan.

Unfortunately, the plan would not be executed. At least not this winter.

Chris woke up the next morning feeling uncomfortable everywhere; his breathing a little obstructed. He frowned and sneezed unexpectedly.

“What’s wrong?” Sebastian woke up to Chris’ coughs. He looked worriedly at Chris face, red from the coughing.

Chris nuzzled up against him. With a slightly nasal voice, he said gloomily, “I think I have a cold, Seb.”

Sebastian reached out his hand to feel Chris’ forehead for temperature. “Don’t think you have a fever. I’m gonna get you some meds. Where did you catch the bug?” He asked as he got out of the bed.

“I got it from you.” Chris spread his hands. 

“Actually, it was you who refused to let go of me,” Sebastian rolled his eyes. As a victim of that incident, he shouldn’t be responsible for Chris’ discomfort.

“I think I caught the bug from you,” Chris laid down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “But it’s okay, they’re just as beautiful as you.”

“Get lost,” Sebastian thought he should maybe take his temperature. He was already blabbering nonsense.

“I love you, too.” As Sebastian turned around, Chris looked at him and gave him a wide grin.


End file.
